From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. -Luke 12:48 Not long ago, I worshipped and rejoiced with nearly five hundred men at a retreat in North Carolina. With us in that retreat were several prominent Christian business leaders from the nation of Kenya. Their warm embrace of their American brothers, and the stirring testimonies of Christ's influence on their lives, echoes as a memorable life-event. So it is with great sorrow that I read the headlines describing the political upheaval and tribal violence gripping their country now, only five months after our time together. These aren't distant faces without names anymore, but real people with names I remember and hands I shook. It changes how I read the news accounts, and how I pray. During a recent screening of Denzel Washington's sobering triumph of a movie, The Great Debaters, I was jarringly reminded that tribal violence isn't just a third-world phenomenon. The lynching of African-Americans in the United States may be a distant memory to people insulated from its reality by geography and birth date, but it happened right here in arguably the best and most noble expression of democracy humans have tried to erect. The noose as a symbol has been in the news a great deal lately. It is not a dated reference to past sins covered by free speech; instead, it remains a terrible image of mindless violence rooted in godless ignorance. Kenya is a frightening reminder that progress is an artificial protection against the darker side of humanity. This month, as America celebrates the contributions and history of African-Americans, we're to be reminded it isn't just Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King's courage we note and applaud. Study the pictures of any of Dr. King's marches. In them you'll see the remarkable imprint of bravery When the cameras were turned off and the media gone, they must surely have known they'd made themselves targets for hate-filled neighbors bent on punishing people who had "forgotten their place." We marvel mournfully, now, at the silence, then, of Christians in the face of this travesty. How could a nation built on freedom not rise up in horrified outrage at man's inhumanity to man, especially in our own backyard? Surely men and women suffering inside and outside our borders today must be asking that same question of us. The answer, of course, is too complex for a devotional. Nevertheless, all the explanations falter in the face of the Biblical duties God places on His children; duties tended to primarily in the course of our daily labors. When God made us His children, He gave us three specific tasks, none of which are optional or negotiable. How we carry out these tasks tells Him, the rest of the world, and especially ourselves, just what kind of impact Christ has had on us: Courage isn't courage when it's played out for an audience. Courage finds the tiniest cracks in the crevices of human depravity, and serves as the glue that stiffens our spines and makes us do and say the things that reduce other people's suffering, even if those actions cause us to suffer in doing so. Jesus set the pattern; giving His life so we have life. Then, offering us the greatest compliment we could ever receive, He left the work He started in our hands. Let the work and words of the Savior manifest themselves in our work and words. --Randy Kilgore Desired Haven Ministries, Inc. For one of the most eloquent expressions of God's views on the duties of a saint, check out the book of Isaiah, chapter 58.
